Prompted
by Grandiose Me
Summary: A collection of the various prompts I've answered so far for the Megamind flashfic thread.  Rated 'T' just in case future chapters are a little more mature.
1. Fantastic Fish

**Author's Note:** From the following prompt on the Livejournal flashfic thread:

"Megamind/Roxanne: what happens to someone stupid enough to hurt roxanne?  
one word: minion."

* * *

If someone had told her that she would one day be entertaining a talking, alien fish in a gorilla suit as a guest in her living room, Roxanne... would not have been surprised. But only because she'd always rather liked Minion, and her life had been very strange for years now, and not because she could have predicted the sequence of events which would lead up to it. She didn't think anyone at all could have predicted those.

Minion sat in on the couch in a way that implied that he was afraid he was going to break something - floating in the middle of his bubble-dome, hands in his lap and eyes flitting around the room, taking everything in at once. He'd come by himself. Just turned up on her doorstep, asking if she would let him in, and then Roxanne had awkwardly offered to go and get them some refreshments. It was only once she was in the little adjacent kitchen that she wondered what refreshments she could possibly serve an alien fish. Oddly enough, Minion made it easy to forget that he wasn't human sometimes.

Settling for a few crackers, Roxanne emptied the box onto a plate and set it on the coffee table between them. Then she sat down, trailing one socked foot a little absently over the carpet, and gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Minion looked at the crackers. "Ooh, crackers," he said, although he made no move to pick one up. Roxanne felt kind of foolish. She didn't know how, exactly, Minion got food to himself. Maybe she was being silly... well, either way, it was possible to cut the tension in the room with a knife.

She cleared her throat. "So. Minion," she began, since he obviously seemed bothered by something. He'd never sought her out on his own before. "What can I do for you?"

Minion blinked, and his gaze flitting a little from side to side. Her sofa creaked as he leaned forward, gingerly extending one hand to pluck a cracker off of the dish, and bring it towards his bubble-dome. Roxanne watched with some fascination as he then pushed it straight through the dome - apparently unimpeded - and took a nibble, not even spilling so much as a drop of water in the process.

That was kind of amazing. She wondered idly how it worked.

When the cracker was finished, Minion curled his hand into a fist, and coughed gingerly into it. Then he laced his fingers together, and something like an intent expression fell over his face.

"I'm here to ask you about your intentions, Ms. Ritchi," he admitted.

There was a pause.

Roxanne raised her eyebrows a little. "My intentions?"

"Your intentions," he agreed. "You know, towards him."

A lightbulb went off. Roxanne's mouth formed a tiny 'o' of surprise, and she leaned back a little, reflexively giving Minion a double-take. "Oh. Oh, my 'intentions'," she parroted, abruptly trying hard not to laugh. It wouldn't be good to laugh, because obviously he was serious, but it was just so... well, it was odd on a lot of levels.

But Minion was resolute. "He feels very strongly about you, Ms. Ritchi. Very strongly. I know he acts like he's extremely put-together and knows everything there is to know, but the truth is, he's very sensitive. But please don't tell him I told you that."

Raising a forestalling hand, Roxanne bit back the last of her urge to chuckle and shook her head. "I know," she replied. How could she have failed to notice either of those things? "Look, you don't have to worry. I'm not-"

"But I do have to worry," Minion cut her off, to her mild surprise. His fins flipped a little in some genuine distress. "I know you're not a mean person, Ms. Ritchi, but you're also a successful reporter. A popular, ordinary person. You've probably had a lot of relationships," he said, with just enough concern in his tone to keep her from becoming offended. "You're giving him a chance, but you're better equipped to deal with things if they don't work out. For someone like you, a failed relationship is just another part of life-"

"Whoa, whoa," Roxanne halted him again. "Stop right there."

Minion obliged her, and darted another look at his surroundings. She couldn't tell if he was afraid of the room they were in, or if he was secretly worried that Megamind would pop out of the woodwork and catch them talking. Maybe a little of both.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that neither Minion nor Megamind were terribly good at that whole 'social interaction' thing, and Minion's brand of not-good tended more towards just blurting out whatever crossed his mind. "If you're here to get me to promise that things are going to work out between the two of us, then I'm sorry, but I can't do that," she said gently. "A failed relationship is never 'just' another part of life. Not even when you've had more than one. But..." she thought about Megamind, and where the two of them stood. They were giving it a shot. Matters between them were still kind of complicated, though, and she couldn't lie about that. "Sometimes things just don't turn out the way you want them to."

Minion gave her a careful look, tilting slightly in his bubble-dome. His eyes looked very intelligent and very intent for a moment.

"...How _do_ you want things to turn out, Ms. Ritchi?" he asked her.

She smiled a little. "Honestly? Right now? I just want everyone to be happy. And call me Roxanne," she requested.

Slowly, Minion nodded. Or, well, bobbed up and down in his water. "Roxanne," he agreed.

* * *

"I made cheesecake!" Minion's happy call reached them from the vicinity of the lair's 'kitchen'. Honestly, Roxanne couldn't see how anyone could bake in that place – it looked more like an industrial-level laboratory than anything else – but Minion apparently could, and she wasn't about to complain. Megamind glanced up from the blueprints he'd been excitedly showing her, his already-broad smile widening even more.

"Excellent, Minion! I'll just-" he started to say, before a jangling sound kicked up in his pocket. Blinking, he looked down, and then retrieved the tiny black cell phone from his pocket. Roxanne had given it to him as a gift not too long ago. He looked at the digital face, and then let out a heartfelt groan.

"What? What is it?" Roxanne asked, as Minion appeared in the doorway, holding a pan in his hands and wearing a bright orange apron that read _My Other Outfit's a Gorilla_ in embroidered letters.

"It's the _mayor_," Megamind said, in the same tone of voice most people generally reserved for 'an infestation of rabid squirrels' or 'my mother-in-law'. Rolling his eyes dramatically, he lifted the phone to his ear, while Minion set the cheesecake down on the table (careful not to crush any blueprints) and exchanged an uncertain glance with Roxanne. They both listened to one half of the conversation for a few minutes, gleaning little of it until Megamind hung up and, expression shifting from annoyed to faintly chagrined, jammed the phone into his pocket again. "I forgot about that," he murmured quietly to himself.

"Forgot about what?" Roxanne asked.

At the same time, Minion said "Forgot about what, sir?" and made for an odd echo in the room.

Megamind flapped a hand vaguely in both of their directions. "The pool," he said, which made Minion's eyes widen in understanding. He elaborated for Roxanne's sake. "When we first took over City Hall, we thought that installing a pool in the basement would be a fun idea."

"We just flooded things," Minion admitted. "It wasn't really a… coordinated effort."

"Yes. Well, the mayor would like me to see about getting it fixed now," Megamind concluded.

"Should I get the car ready?"

"No, no," he replied. "It's nothing the brain bots can't handle. I'll just go get them set-up myself. Apparently, there are a few other things I'm supposed to discuss with regards to city management and heroics. Might as well get it done with." His expression dropped into something a little more forlorn, then, and he turned fully to Roxanne. "I hate to run out on you…"

Giving him a reassuring smile, she leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He froze up for a few seconds, the way he usually did when she surprised him, and she pushed a stray lock from her bangs off of her forehead. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I didn't have anything special planned for today. We can do something when you get back."

Just like that, some of the slump left his shoulders, and he brightened considerably. There still wasn't quite the usual spring in his step as he left them to head over to the garage, though. But Roxanne found herself feeling unexpectedly proud of him. The old Megamind had never, in her experience, done something because it _needed_ to be done – he'd always done things because he wanted to do them, or because they were part of his game. It probably wasn't easy to go from the latter to the former. She eyed him as he left, glancing around the lair at all the familiar, strange things, and felt something warm unfold inside her chest.

The cheesecake smelled delicious.

"Well…" Minion said, looking vaguely concerned, in that way he always did whenever he wasn't going with Megamind. "No point in letting this go to waste, I guess. Can I cut you a slice?"

Roxanne blinked. After a brief moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Sure. Why not?" she agreed, and Minion smiled at her. A moment later they'd settled down at the table across from one another, Megamind's things carefully moved out of crumb-range, the lair tall and quiet all around them. A few brain bots buzzed to and fro in the background. The cheesecake was sweeter than Roxanne generally liked, but still quite good. She grinned around her fork.

"Now I wish I'd brought my bike," she admitted. "I could've used the ride to burn all these calories."

Minion fluttered, putting his own fork straight through the material of his bubble-dome. She wondered where he _kept_ all the food he ate. His actual body looked like it was all teeth and face.

"A little indulgence never hurt anyone," he philosophically declared.

"Maybe not. But it's different when you're on television," she replied. "Any time I put on a pound I have to listen to make-up and wardrobe harp my ears off."

Minion did his little flutter-tilt as he looked at her again. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," she said with authority. As he turned a concerned expression towards the cheesecake again, she laughed, and reflexively patted him on the shoulder. The faux gorilla hair was coarse under her hand. It was a silly gesture – he probably couldn't even feel anything. But it seemed normal enough, and he only blinked at her hand for a second. "Don't worry, though. I'm not a supermodel. One slice of delicious cheesecake won't be the end of the world."

At the word 'delicious' his sharp-toothed mouth broke out into a broad grin. "The recipe's from Martha Stewart. I changed some of it, though," he confided.

"It's good," she reiterated.

A moment later, awkward silence descended between the two of them again. Minion coughed. Roxanne finished the last of her cake, and subjected him to a long moment's scrutiny. Things were kind of invisible awkwardness between the two of them, she decided. Strangely enough, they might have gotten along easier _before_, back when their roles were more clearly defined as hostage and henchperson. It was different now. Less certain, less formulaic. But that wouldn't do. Megamind was an important part of her life, and Minion was an important part of his (and vice-versa) – and she was the reporter, the person who was good at getting people to talk, to open up, to tell her their stories and relax their guard for the camera. Reaching an internal decision, she cast a glance at the nearby clock. It was just after lunchtime, right around when the little theatre she favored would start showing its matinees.

"Do you like action movies, Minion?" she asked.

He blinked. "…You mean, like on television?"

Starting for a moment, Roxanne felt her grin widen, and shook her head. "I mean like at the theatre," she clarified, recalling that the one time she and 'Bernard' had gone to the movies, he had seemed unusually awed by the experience. Of course, in hindsight, that was probably his first time going to see one on the big screen, with crowds of people and warm, buttery popcorn, and everything else that came with the experience. "C'mon," she decided, standing up and starting to help clear the dishes. Minion almost immediately intervened. "I'll show you."

* * *

"For the last time, I am NOT cheating on you with _Minion! _I mean do you even listen to half of the stuff that comes out of your mouth sometimes?_"_ Roxanne found herself snapping, her arms folded and her expression dire as Megamind waved what looked like a gossip tabloid wildly through the air.

"Then what's this?" he demanded, jabbing one finger at the cover, which depicted a photo of herself and his best friend leaving her local theatre.

Feeling a headache coming on, she raised a hand and rubbed at the center of her brow. "We went to a movie while you were taking care of things at City Hall," she said. Then she heaved a rather dramatic shrug. "I thought it would be fun! He'd never been to a movie theatre before!"

Megamind stilled. He looked at the picture again.

"…Oh."

With what she felt was a monumental level of patience, Roxanne resisted the urge to throw him bodily out of her apartment. Instead she let out a breath and sank down into the chair behind her, and after a moment's thought, extended one hand forward to grasp the part of her boyfriend nearest to her. It happened to be his belt. His cheeks darkened as she pulled him towards her, until he was standing scant inches away, and then she leaned forward and rested her forehead against the flat surface of his stomach.

"For a brilliant guy, you really can be an idiot."

"Um."

"I mean, I like Minion and all, but he's kind of a fish. In case you haven't noticed."

"…Sometimes I forget?"

"And even if he _wasn't _a fish, and was in fact the most handsome man alive, do you still really think I'd cheat on you with your own best friend? Or anyone, for that matter? Do you think that _Minion_ would do that to you_?_"

Silence. For a moment, she felt a twinge of worry. But then he let out a heavy sigh, and she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders, warm and slender. "No," he admitted quietly. It sounded like the truth.

"Good," she decided, pulling back a little to give him a reassuring look. Eventually, they were going to have to talk more about his insecurities regarding her and them and all things pertaining to their relationship. Eventually, they would probably have a real, not-over-in-five-seconds argument about it. But at that particular moment, honestly, one sincere 'no' from him would do. It was amazing what the littlest words could accomplish.

* * *

It was just going to be one of those days, Roxanne decided. She'd woken up that morning with a headache from the night before (writing and researching interview questions longer than she should have), only to discover that she'd forgotten to buy coffee on her last shopping run. That did absolutely zero for her mood, and it definitely didn't help that as soon as she left for work it started pouring rain – bucket loads of it – and once she finally got inside, it was to discover that the building had sprung a leak… right over her desk. Not a tiny leak, either. Her keyboard was wrecked, although the rest of her computer was rescued before things could get any worse. The rain didn't let up at all during the day, however, and she was forced to move as the repairmen came in and tried to mitigate the whole disaster. One of them even wound up clocking her across the back of her neck with a ladder leg, and didn't so much as apologize. By the time she headed home again she was on the verge of strangling someone, or possibly crying, and so could only muster up the energy to be quietly grateful when a familiar black car pulled up to the roadside.

Minion rolled down the window and grinned at her. "Hey there pretty lady. Need a lift?" he asked her jokingly.

Roxanne smiled back and pulled open the car door. "I don't know. I wouldn't want to get kidnapped," she replied, sliding into the passenger side seat. She winced as her damp skirt dragged against the interior leather. "Sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Would you mind stopping by the lair, or should I take you home first?" he asked. Then he leaned over in a conspiratorial fashion as he pulled out into traffic again. "The boss has a romantic dinner planned. Don't tell him I told you – but maybe you'd like to change or something?"

Gratefully, she nodded. "That's a good idea." Admittedly, after the day she'd had, she didn't exactly look her best. Leaning her head back against the seat behind her, she let out a breath and closed her eyes for a minute. She kind of just felt like curling up in the bathtub and never coming out again, but dinner would be nice, too, and she hated to disappoint her boyfriend when he went to that kind of trouble for her. He loved springing things on her. It was probably some kind of hold-over from the beginning of their relationship.

The sharp intake of breath beside her made her eyes snap open. Before she could react, she felt one thick, robotic finger push back part of the collar of her jacket.

"What's that?" Minion demanded, glancing between her neck and the road.

Roxanne blinked. She raised a hand to the spot, and winced at the tenderness there. Oh, right. Somehow she'd almost forgotten about the accident that morning. "Nothing, really," she replied. "We sprung a leak in the building today, and one of the idiot repairmen wasn't paying attention and got me with the bottom edge of his ladder. The jerk. He tried to pretend he hadn't noticed, but I saw him do a double-take and everything – sometimes people are so rude." It wasn't often that she complained, but given the day she'd had, she figured she'd earned it.

Minion scowled past the steering wheel. "He hurt you?"

"By accident," she confirmed.

"That doesn't sound very professional. Did you catch his name?"

Sighing, Roxanne made a vague gesture of futility. "Oh, his nametag said Dave, and I was thinking about making a report to his superior. But it's not really worth it. It's just a bruise," she concluded.

"Dave. I see. And he works for…?"

"Metro City Office Repair," she replied unthinkingly. Then she blinked, straightening a little and turning to look at him. "Why?" she asked with no small amount of suspicion.

Minion shrugged. "Oh, no reason. It's just good to know these things. Look, we're here," he said, hitting the breaks with just enough force to jolt her a bit. "I'll just wait with the car while you get ready. Don't worry about being too formal, it'll just be the two of you. I've got some pieces for my quilting club that I'm still doing the top-stitching on. It'll probably keep me busy all evening." He graced her with a considerable smile, and then all but hurried her out of the car. By the time she'd showered, dried her hair, changed, and raced back, she'd all but forgotten their conversation, and instead listened to Minion go on about the various newsletters he was signed up for until they were at the lair. Then her evening almost made up for the day she'd had before. It was quiet, and lovely, and she spent the whole night there, so that she didn't get back to her apartment until the next afternoon.

She _did_ notice that Dave the repairman was kind of pale and shaky at work the next day, but didn't think anything of it until she got home and found a letter in her post box.

_Dear Miss Ritchi,_ it read. _I am incredibly sorry for having injured you the day before._ The letters were very carefully written out in blue pen, though it looked like whoever had put them there had done so with a shaky hand. _I am particularly sorry for the rudeness of my reaction. I ignored you and pretended that I hadn't hurt you, which is inexcusable. Please accept my heartfelt apologies. It will never happen again. Yours sincerely, David McKellen of Metro City Office Repair_.

She blinked at the letter, and was suddenly reminded of the conversation she'd had the other evening.

But… no. No. That was ridiculous. Sure, it was quite the about-face, but maybe someone had just mentioned the incident to his employer and put the fear of a lawsuit into him. With a shake of her head, Roxanne tucked the letter into her pocket and headed for the stairs. She was being silly. Perhaps if the guy had hit _Megamind_ she could imagine something like that, but Minion was perfectly friendly to people as long as they left his boss alone. With an internal shrug, she turned her mind to thoughts of the upcoming weekend, and dinner, and calling her boyfriend, and forgot about the incident entirely.

Still, though. The belated apology was kind of nice to get.


	2. Guys' Night

**Author's Note:** From this prompt:

"Megamind, Minion, & Music Man - Prompt: Guys' Night"

* * *

His prison dads had warned him about alcohol. People could say what they wanted about criminals, but Megamind had been well-informed on the dangers of all kinds of substance abuse by the time he was thirteen – and witnessing some of its effects first-hand (not to mention learning that almost all of it had negative effects on a person's brain) had left him with next to no interest in experimentation. He had his outlets. Awesome music, special effects, and ill-defined malevolence being chief amongst them, and he definitely didn't have an interest in impairing himself. His wits had been his sole advantage for the majority of his career.

However, after the first few chords of 'My Fists Can Break Bricks But Yours Can Break Hearts' started ringing out in the gilded chambers of Music Man's secret pad, he concluded that the only way he was going to survive the evening was if he couldn't remember any of it afterwards. So he downed the glass of scotch he'd been offered, winced at the taste, and then poured himself another round. He wasn't even sure why he'd come, except that he was starting to realize that his former archnemesis had even fewer friends than he did (which was really, really sad, because he had all of _two_), and the phoned invitation to have a 'guy's night' had held a certain tinge of desperation that he remembered from his old shool days. Of course, back then _he_ had been the desperate one.

Right around about the bridge – 'Even with this super-human strength, I can't hold on to you' – Minion solemnly reached over, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and dumped a good third of it into the bubble-dome around him. The water took on an amber tinge.

After that, things started to get a little blurry. When he blinked his eyes open again with something resembling his full faculties, he was lying on the shool building's slanted little roof, and his head felt like someone was trying to rip it apart. Wincing, he sat up and tried to figure out how he'd gotten up there. The music had continued on for an interminable length of time. At some point Minion had started bawling. He thought he could recall blaming the music for that, and subsequently trying to punch Music Man in the jaw (which would explain his bruised fist) and then… then they'd started rambling about the old days. Music Man had said something about how his father always ignored him. Megamind had brought up their relationship in shool, and they'd gone outside to… actually, he couldn't remember why they'd gone outside. But that explained why he was on the roof, anyway. He presumed he'd been carried up there.

Straightening a little more, he started the dubious task of finding a way down. His hand rested on something beside him that beeped. Huh. It was his cellular phone.

The color drained from his face. Oh. Oh crap. He hadn't… scrambling a little, and squinting at the abruptly too-bright screen, he checked his call history. His heart sank – he'd phoned her. At three o'clock in the morning, no less, probably waking her up in the dead of night to ramble drunkenly on about _who knows what_, and, oh, that was bad. That was not good boyfriend behavior. By now she probably thought that he was a drunkard and an idiot and what if he'd said something awful to her? He could have said anything. What if he hadn't even talked to her, but had instead left some long-winded message on her answering machine? Then his stupidity would be _recorded!_

With a muttered oath, Megamind shoved the phone into his pocket and slid down to the edge of the roof. His dismount was about as graceful as one would expect from someone experiencing their first hangover in the midst of a mild panic-attack. He landed spread-eagle on the grass. The world tilted nauseatingly, and he groaned, raising his hands to cover his eyes for a moment. When he finally moved them again, the spinning landscape resolved to reveal a familiar, bearded visage starting curiously down at him.

"Y'know, little buddy, I can't get drunk," he said. "I'm thinking that might be a good thing."

Glowering, Megamind put his hands back over his eyes again. "Hate you so much," he muttered into his sleeve.

Music Man laughed, disgustingly cheerful, and then the world went _woosh_ and _tilt_ as he was abruptly hefted to his feet. His stomach gave a tremendous lurch. "Up you go," his archnemesis (not former anymore, no, he was going to revise a new, more effective death ray just because of this) said, batting some stray grass off of the back of his shoulders and grinning like a loon. Megamind managed to grind out something that might have been "where's Minion?" but also might have been a creative death threat. Or both.

"Downstairs, still sleeping it off," Music Man replied. "Do you want toast?"

He nearly threw up again at the mere _thought_ of toast. Vehemently shaking his head turned out to not be a good idea, though, as the world tipped and spun accordingly along with the motion. As he contemplated the divine justice in expelling his stomach contents onto his host's spotless, fluffy white robe, the sound of tires moving over dirt caught his attention.

Roxanne pulled up. She was driving the news van. His heart lurched along with his stomach at the sight, because she looked Mad. With the capital 'm' and everything. As she got out of the van, she slammed the door behind her, her work shoes making her step very deliberately over the rough terrain. Every move seemed like it spelled his doom in large, neon lights, with exclamation points of shame.

"Guess our guys' night is over," Music Man said.

He braced himself.

"You-!" Roxanne began in potent fury. He desperately fished for an excuse, a bluff, something, _anything_ he could use to deflect her temper, and so almost didn't notice that she'd leveled her index finger directly at Music Man's nose. "You incurable jerk! I can't believe you!" she snapped. "I have done nineteen separate interviews with you, and in three of them you mentioned that you don't get drunk! You're like the designated driver, you big, stupid lump! That means you keep anyone from doing something incredibly inadvisable while they're drunk. Like calling me up in the middle of the night to ask what Q-tips are made of!"

Music Man blinked. Megamind felt a sudden surge of relief fall through him. Roxanne, however, was apparently on a role.

"If you ever want to do this again, then you are going to look after them. Both of them. Do you understand me?" she continued. "Because copper might not be your weakness, but if you keep this up, I swear, I will phone your mother and _tell her that you aren't dead!"_

He gasped. Megamind's eyes widened. Then he flinched at the sudden sharp spike of pain, and raised a palm to his forehead. As Roxanne opened her mouth again, Music Man immediately raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Okay, okay," he agreed. "I'm sorry Roxie. I'll do better next time, I promise."

"That's right you will," Roxanne snapped. Then there was a warm hand closing around his forearm, and Roxanne was leading him with appreciable gentleness over towards the van. He caught her glancing back at Music Man once along the way and making the 'I'm watching you' gesture at him, which seemed to do an admirable job of cowing the big lug. For a few moments he savored the relief of not being yelled at, and apparently not being in trouble, until he began to worry if that was actually the case. She could have just been saving up a second tirade. As his girlfriend helped him into the passenger side, he gave her an assessing look through his apparently-permanent wince.

"So… you're not mad at me?" he checked.

She looked at him, her mouth twisting sideways for a moment. But her eyes were soft. "I'm kind of annoyed that you got that drunk," she told him. Then she sighed, and leaned forward, her lips lingering over his brow. "But no, I'm not mad. Now stay put – I'll get Minion." He nodded, and even obligingly fastened his seatbelt as she turned and walked away.

She'd never tell him that she couldn't exactly stay mad at him, though, even if he _had_ woken her up at an ungodly hour of the night to babble drunkenly across a phone line. Not when he'd spent a good portion of that babbling reiterating that she was the smartest person he knew.

What could she say? She had no defense against that compliment, when it came from the right person.


	3. Sound of Music

**Author's Note:** From the following prompt:

"Megamind and Musicman rocking out. Music Man on guitar/ukelele, Megamind on some rock instrument, drum set, electric guitar, electric bass. Whatever. If he's a Hero now, then Metro Man is his friend, who also likes music. He must introduce him to the wonders of ROCK."

* * *

The first time had been while they were both in school together.

It was the spare half hour at the end of the day, when the teacher generally let them do any constructive activities they felt like until it was time to leave. Build with blocks, draw, paint, use some of the educational toys, that sort of thing. Metro Boy always liked this part of class the best. Better than Show and Tell, even, and at Show and Tell everyone always clapped for him, and he got to show off. But during the last part of the day, sometimes he actually had fun with what he was doing. Today was particularly exciting because there were some new toys, brought in by the assistant teacher.

As soon as the teacher let them go, Metro Boy zipped over, the first to reach the box. Naturally. He scanned it with his x-ray vision first. There were more blocks (funny shaped, it seemed) and puzzles (ugh, he hated puzzles) and a few model kits for things like planes and boats (which were really just advanced blocks, when you thought about it) and something that looked sort of like a flute.

That one caught his eye. In the manor they had a grand piano, but it was a big, extravagant thing, and after he'd almost slipped up with his super-strength and broken it (no one else had noticed) he'd steered well clear of it.

He wasn't sure why the flute-thing arrested his attention so thoroughly. Maybe because it looked interesting. Maybe because, aside from his almost-accident, one of his favorite things was listening to his adopted mother play the piano for him. He reached out, carefully opening the box, and pulled the flute free. Then he zipped off again before the other children had even had time to close in, retreating to a far corner of the classroom. Of course, that didn't exempt him from having attention paid his way. As soon as the other kids had gathered their things they all clustered around him. Only Blue Kid stayed away, shooting him a glare before he pulled out a worn-looking notebook, and started scribbling in it.

"What's that?" one of the other children asked him, pointing to the flute.

Metro Boy shrugged. A little girl answered for him.

"That looks sort of like a clarinet," she said. "My older sister plays one."

"Do you know how to play, Metro Boy?"

"I bet he does! Go on, Metro Boy, show us how you do it!"

"Yeah!"

A dozen sets of eager eyes turned his way. Swallowing, Metro Boy put on his best, toothiest smile, and then lifted the clarinet up to his lips. There were little holes on the top. He'd seen people play instruments before, so he figured he was supposed to move his fingers over top of them, and breathe into one end to get it to work. He'd have to be careful not to breathe too hard or too cold and wreck it. Drawing a deep breath, he gave it a try.

The sound that came out was terrible. It was as though someone had started beating a whale over the head with a goose, and both were crying foul. The other children recoiled. Metro Boy immediately stopped, his expression dropping at the mortified looks he was getting, his mouth going dry. Oh no. Oh no, he'd screwed up. Desperately, he tried to think up a way to salvage the situation. He could try again, but he probably wouldn't get a better result the second time.

When the laughing started up, he almost panicked.

It was only Blue Kid who laughed, though, sitting at his table, his pencil extended towards Metro Boy as he pointed and chuckled whole heartedly.

"That was _awful_," he said.

The worst part was, he was right. It really had been awful. But before Metro Boy could respond, one of the other children spoke up.

"What do you know about it?" the little girl who'd identified the instrument said. "Maybe it's an alien song from his home planet!"

The other children, disconcerted by his failure, latched onto that idea like magnets. A few minutes later, insults were being heaped upon Blue Kid, and the other children were encouraging him to play them more of his 'space music'. And even though it was strange, and it was still very bad the next time he tried, it was also, kind of… fun.

* * *

The second time had been shortly after Megamind's thirteenth jail break.

A fleet of brain bots had filled up central park, all carrying huge projection screens in their metal arms. Metroman had heard the cries of alarm while he was in the middle of dinner, and had dutifully left his meal to go and see what the little guy had planned this time. Emergency helicopters had kept a healthy distance as he came into the park, the crowds of onlookers pointing and murmuring about all of the screens that had been set up there. Another herd of brain bots was keeping them from leaving. Metroman considered melting them with his heat vision, but that would probably come across as too violent, and there were bystanders dangerously close by.

Right on cue, the screens lit up, collectively forming a giant screen image of Megamind. He was wearing a studded black leather ensemble, the collar high behind his head, and an excess of make-up around his eyes. As he came into view, he cackled.

Metroman frowned, the picture of righteous indignation. "Megamind," he said. A nearby brain bot with a microphone caught his voice, projecting it throughout the park.

"Ohoho, Metroman," Megamind replied, cackling again. "Such a lovely day for a picnic. I hope you don't mind, but I thought I'd join in." He grinned malevolently, and waved an arm, causing the brain bots in the park to emit a series of red lasers. Metroman wasn't sure what they were for. They looked scary – so, probably that.

"I'm afraid your storm clouds aren't welcome over our heads, you fiend!" he returned, throwing his shoulders back and raising his chin just a hair's breadth. Below him, the crowd of onlookers clapped and cheered. On the screens, Megamind glared.

"No? Such a pity," he said. "Because I'm afraid you'll find that no one's allowed to leave." He gestured dramatically with one arm.

There was a pause.

Silence.

"…Minion?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, right, sir!" Minion cheerfully replied from off-screen. Abruptly, the brain bots hummed, and their lasers lights fell into a sharp grid across the park. Several nearby bushes were burnt and charred, demonstrating that the red glow was far from harmless. One of the beams bounced off of Metroman's ankle and, ricocheting, took out a screen on the far left. Megamind winced.

Darkening his expression, Metroman clenched one hand into a fist, and swept the other through the air in a hard cutting motion. "What dastardly scheme are you attempting now, Megamind?"

Regaining his composure, the blue-skinned supervillain adopted a mocking smile. "You'll leave Metrocity forever, Metroman. You'll leave and never come back, because over the course of the next fifteen minutes, these laser beams are going to get tighter, and tighter, and soon enough, there won't be any place left for our poor picnickers to hide!" He tossed his head back and cackled furiously.

Well, that was kind of boring. With an internal sigh, Metroman turned to the task at hand, and aimed his head-vision at the nearest brain bot. As he blasted the destructive rays from his eyes, however, the bot angled itself in a different direction. The laser it was manning dug a sharp groove into the park's dirt, and narrowly missed an old willow tree. He winced. Okay, maybe it was a better plan than he'd given the little guy credit for – he couldn't really do much without risking a lot of damage to the park, and its occupants. If he moved to close to the lasers then they'd go ricocheting off into who-knew-what, and if he kept firing at the brain bots, they'd move, and again, hit who-knew-what.

"You dastardly devil!" he accused.

Megamind chuckled. "Thirteen minutes, Metroman," he said, falling back into a chair behind him. There was something propped up against its side. He only realized what it was when Megamind almost absently reached one hand over, picked it up and pulling it into his lap. It was a guitar. An inky black electric guitar, with small spikes along one edge, and blue lightning bolts painted beneath the strings. As the lasers hummed, the supervillain began to play in an almost absent fashion, his fingers flitting over the strings, filling the park up with harsh, rapid notes. The fact that Megamind was playing guitar for his literally captive audience wasn't really a surprise. The last time he'd done something similar, he had started up a game of one-man chess, and the time before that, he'd gotten a set of stereos booming and started dancing. Metroman guessed it was his way of gloating. Either that, or he was just so hyper that he couldn't go for even a few minutes without engaging himself in some activity or other.

No, the surprising thing wasn't that Megamind was playing guitar – it was that he wasn't actually half bad at it.

Looking at him, Metroman felt something stir in his chest. Some dark, nameless emotion, that wasn't quite anger and wasn't quite embarrassment, but seemed pretty close to both of them. All at once he remembered the piano, and the clarinet in school, and how music seemed to be the one thing he didn't have a superpower to help him with – he couldn't even sing.

Swallowing, he shook his head, and shoved the emotion back. That was weird. But it wasn't really important, either, because Megamind's little display had given him away. Using his super-hearing, Metroman followed the sounds of his music to its source. Within minutes, he had the whole operation taken apart, and the little guy was sent packing back to jail again.

The guitar got left behind.

* * *

The third time, they were both very different people. But also, in the end, more themselves than they'd ever been before.

"Do you really think I have talent?" he asked. It was a sunny day, and they'd all agreed to have a picnic on the grass outside of the old school house, and as he'd sat there with his guitar in his lap, it had struck him all at once. Roxanne and Minion were talking about some piece she'd done the recent election. Megamind had fallen quiet, a slice of half-eaten pie in front of him and a look of utter contentment on his face.

"Hmm?" he asked, blinking a little and glancing towards Music Man.

Almost nervously, he cleared his throat. "Back when I first played for you guys, you said I had 'some small talent'. Do you really think so?" he asked.

Megamind's eyebrows went up. He looked confused for a few seconds, just staring at him. Then something like understanding crossed his face, and he chuckled – not a malevolent or mocking chuckle, though. It was the kind of laugh that Music Man had never heard from him before.

"Sure, you're not half bad," the little guy agreed.

For some reason, that offhand compliment was one of the most meaningful ones he'd ever received. He'd worked hard on his music. It hadn't been easy, and that had been very strange for him. But considering that he'd started out at 'godawful' when he was a kid, 'not half bad' was a pretty long way to have come. Wasn't it?

"Wait here," he said suddenly, getting up from his corner of the picnic blanket and hurrying back down to his hideout. It took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, shoved into storage in one of the back closets, packed away carefully into a box full of Styrofoam peanuts, but find it he did. It was just as dark and sleek as it had been the first day he'd grabbed it off the floor of Megamind's lair. With a sudden rush of excitement, he zoomed back out into the sunlight, incorporating a little more speed than he usually would and causing a low wind to kick up on the grass. A corner of the picnic blanket overturned. Roxanne's hair got blown sideways.

When he slowed down again, Megamind glanced at him, then did a double-take. His eyes widened.

"That's…"

Grinning, Music Man shoved it hastily into his arms. "It's yours," he confirmed. "I figured the police would just take it if I left it, and I'd never seen one up close before."

Megamind held the instrument with what was almost reverence. Roxanne and Minion were unusually quiet – when he glanced towards them, he saw that they were both watching them in obvious interest.

The little guy grinned, checking the tuning a little. After a minute, he lifted up his wrist and rattled off a command for one of his brain bots to head their way. Music Man puzzled over that, until the little bot in question turned up, and Megamind beckoned him close. He plugged the guitar into one of the ports along the little robot's side. Then, with a quiet intensity, he set about checking over the tuning, while the bot hovered obediently and Roxanne and Minion kept their silence.

After a few minutes, though, Music Man found that he didn't have their patience. "Is it still alright?" he asked, shifting his grip on his own acoustic guitar.

"It could use some new strings, I think," Megamind replied. "Our glorious combat was a little harsh on it." Then he glanced over, and, still grinning, strummed a hand across the strings. The notes which flew out were wiry and strong. "What do you say?" he asked, nodding towards Music Man. "Shall we play?"

That took him aback for a moment. He blinked, glancing down at himself, then over at the little guy again. "What song?" he wondered. They'd never really been into the same kind of music.

"Oh, let's just wing it," the former supervillain gleefully suggested, playing off a few absent chords. There was something strangely appealing about the idea. With a smile to match, Music Man lifted his guitar strap over one shoulder, and without further ado started strumming out the tune to Elvis Presley's 'Hound Dog'.

Megamind went with Alice Cooper's 'School's Out'.

And together, they sounded absolutely, irredeemably, wonderfully awful.


	4. Precedence

**Author's Note:** This prompt:

"Anyone else ever wonder why they weren't any other villains besides Megamind in Metro City? It's typical for there to be a one city/one her ratio, but the hero usually faces multiple villains. My idea is that, pre-movie, there was another villain in Metro City. Megamind had a grudging respect for them, and maybe they teamed up a few times, but they otherwise ignored each other. Then the other villain kidnapped Roxanne..."

* * *

Megamind was, by nature, a somewhat territorial person. He'd never left Metrocity, and never felt an inclination to. The city was his city, its occupants were his victims, and its hero was his archnemesis. Simple as that. So when that unfortunate incident at the chemical waste disposal plant resulted in one of the under-paid workers getting a face full of acid (and naturally gaining 'superpowers') he hadn't been sure what to think of it. He'd been in jail when the news reports had started coming in. The madman dressed in an interlocking red and black costume, sort of like a one-piece pajama suit with a squiggly line right down the middle, and called himself 'The Puzzler'. At first his interest in Metroman had seemed minimal. He'd been more fixated on getting revenge against his former employers for failing to install proper safety regulations, and had opted to go about in a way that seemed perfectly reasonable to Megamind – he'd trapped them all in gigantic labyrinth full of poison gas, and the same acidic death-traps that he'd been forced to work alongside day after day, and assaulted them with trivia questions in exchange for their survival.

Things only really got tricky once Metroman showed up to foil him. Megamind hadn't quite liked that. _He_ was Metroman's arch enemy, not that pajama-clad industrial accident, and he hadn't been impressed at all when the upstart had vowed vengeance against the hero. Even _if_ he'd done so with impressive vitriol and flare.

Then he'd been dragged off to prison, locked in the same high-security wing as Megamind himself, and they'd had an opportunity to hash things out.

"He's _my_ archnemesis," Megamind had insisted, during their supervised daily exercise. The guards had all rolled their eyes. "You can go on with your corporate sabotage and revenge schemes and everything, but don't think you're taking the top spot. You're nowhere near qualified."

Puzzler – who just looked sort of tragic and scar-faced when he wasn't in costume – had blinked at him, obviously taken aback at having been spoken to at all. "You're Megamind," he'd observed, cocking his head to one side, like some sort of hideous man-bird. Megamind had wondered for a moment if he'd overestimated his intelligence, because _obviously_. "You hate Metroman too, don't you?" Puzzler had leaned close, then, in a sort of uncomfortable, total-lack-of-personal-space-bubble way that was actually quite unnerving.

"Yeah, no kidding," he replied. Then he caught himself, and grinned malevolently. "I've hated him for all of his wretchedly goody two-shoes existence! Thwarting Metroman is my life's destiny!" He clenched a fist for emphasis.

Still staring at him with a too-intent expression, Puzzler had nodded. "Good," he said. "Good. I think we'll get along, you and I."

It had been a weirdly creepy moment, and Megamind had subsequently avoided the other supervillain whenever possible. Puzzler proved to be almost as adept at prison breaks as he himself was, but he lacked the means and motive to concoct schemes with the same regularity and scale as Megamind, and hadn't garnered nearly as much attention. Just so long as he wasn't a threat for the title of Metroman's archnemesis, Megamind had concluded that The Puzzler's existence was inconsequential. Perhaps even a little useful. The lunatic made for an excellent distraction, now and then, and sometimes even volunteered himself to aid Megamind in his plots. In return, Megamind offered him a few tips on where to find the good lairs, and after about six months of semi-cooperative supervillainy, even helped him construct a gigantic sphinx that spouted flames from its mouth whenever someone answered a question wrong. It was sort of almost like having a friend (apart from Minion), except for the bit where he found The Puzzler's personality utterly repellant, and always felt vaguely relieved when they didn't have to be in the same room as one another.

"That guy's creepy," Minion had once sagely observed, after Puzzler had stopped by to ask after a good formula for knock-out gas. They'd given him one of the very basic ones.

"Mm. Very," Megamind had absently agreed.

* * *

Roughly a year after The Puzzler's debut, Megamind found himself cornered by the other supervillain at prison while he nursed a sore arm. Metroman had yanked him pretty hard when he'd pulled him out of his experimental combat suit. One of the guards, Terry, had given him an ice-pack for it, but the Warden had confiscated it away again. Which was a shame, because Megamind wasn't even planning on escaping for another few weeks, at least, and the numbed pain had been doing wonders for his mood.

"Why do you always kidnap Roxanne Ritchi?" Puzzler had asked, leaning too close and staring a little too fixedly at his face.

Megamind blinked. "What do you mean, 'why'?" he asked back. "Isn't it obvious?"

Puzzler tilted his head. "You show a preference to abducting her over any other resident of the city. Metroman would rescue any of them. Why take the same woman over and over again?"

"Ah," he replied, shifting a little so that there was some more space between them. Swallowing, he marshaled himself away from his discomfort, and treated Puzzler with a vaguely condescending smirk. "Because, my nefarious associate, Metroman is _in love_ with Ms. Ritchi. She's beautiful, she speaks for the common peons of this city, she exudes the same shiny-bright goodness that he stands for – she's his perfect match. Love makes fools of all men," he explained. "Since that bulk-headed bruiser has no physical weaknesses, I have opted to strike a blow at his emotions instead. His heart, at least, is not indestructible!" For a moment he thought about throwing in a good evil laugh, just because, but Puzzler was really killing his buzz. So instead he simply waited for a good opportunity to make his excuses and leave. Really, there was something just _off_ about that guy.

He was almost relieved when, two days later, the guards scrambled and the alarms went off, and the Warden angrily demanded if he knew where The Puzzler had escaped to. Megamind had tented his fingers and chuckled in a foreboding fashion, and provided suitably evasive answers whilst inwardly fending off the relief at not having to spend another exercise period getting creepy stares. Let Metroman deal with it all for a while. He'd sit back, enjoy the show, and work on his own plans. The prison was in heavy lockdown for a few days, so he didn't have much to do except keep an eye on the news and make small-talk with Terry and Fred through the door.

Less than a week later, The Puzzler's masked face was splashed across all of the local stations. Raising an eyebrow, Megamind had lowered his remote, and leaned back in his chair to see what old scar-face had planned for the day. Another maze, maybe? A coded series of bombs around the city's airport? Perhaps some sort of game show of terror?

Puzzler said something in his frantic, high-pitched villain's voice (really, though, he sounded like he was trying _way_ too hard) and Megamind was only sort-of paying attention until the camera panned out to reveal…

Roxanne Ritchi, dangling over a gigantic vat of acid.

He blinked, then did a double-take, accidentally knocking his remote to the floor with a loud clatter as he suddenly stood up. "What?" he demanded, as Puzzler went back to talking, making some silly demand about Metroman. "_What?_ No, absolutely not! That is _my_ act, you thieving little pajama-clad viper! How dare he? _How dare?"_ He fumed, feeling a sudden burst of outrage surge through him as he glared at the television set. What was he thinking? Kidnapping the love interest was the province of the archnemesis, it was _his_ scheme, his domain, and he was doing it all wrong, there weren't nearly enough gizmos and the rope she was dangling from was far too thin and she was _much too close_ to the fumes from that vat, which didn't create the proper level of professionalism, that _hack_. Megamind glowered and ranted at the screen, drawing some concerned attention from the guards outside, and he was still going at it long after Metroman had turned up to rescue Roxanne, and The Puzzler had just barely managed to escape re-capture.

While the news stations showed footage of the incident long into the night, Megamind quietly decided that, really, Metrocity just wasn't big enough for two supervillains.

* * *

"Hello, Jeff," Megamind greeted as The Puzzler finally came-to, being sure to use the other villain's legal name.

Puzzler blinked, his eyes glassy around his scarred face, confusion resting prominently in them as the knock-out gas slowly cleared from his system. "Megamind?" he asked, looking around himself. "What are you doing?"

Rising to his feet, Megamind folded his hands behind his back, and began taking measured steps around the perimeter of the room. They were in The Puzzler's own lair, a place that he himself had formerly used. It had been remarkably easy to track him down. Minion loomed silently in the background, robotic arms folded across his chest. He chuckled. "Oh, Jeff. _You're_ the one who's supposed to be good at answering questions. Why don't you tell me?" he suggested. There was an unexpected edge to his voice. He paused, making a mental note of it – that actually sounded rather intimidating. He would have to try and duplicate the effect for future use.

There was a moment of befuddled silence. Puzzler shook his head, still a bit groggy, and shifted against the ropes he'd been tied with. "You've captured me… what for?"

Megamind raised an eyebrow at him. "Puzzles, Jeff. Puzzles," he replied, moving over to a large mosaic which the other supervillain had erected upon his wall. Absently, he flicked a finger against one of the jagged corners. "They make a picture, don't they? And that whole picture is combined of many smaller pieces. Each piece in its place." He smirked, whirling around a little, the edge of his cape fluttering at his ankles. The Puzzler actually looked a little nervous – not an expression he generally wore. "All of the pieces have to fit properly together, as I'm sure you're aware. If you try to jam two pieces into the same spot… well. You just end up with a mess." Slowly, he shrugged, extending his arms in a grandiose gesture of 'what can you do?'.

Puzzler licked his lips, darting a nervous glance over at Minion. "I see," he said. "I see. Yes. This is about Ms. Ritchi, isn't it?"

A mockery of an approving smile spread across Megamind's face. "_Very_ good, Jeff. That was a gold star deduction. However did you _puzzle_ it out?" he sarcastically demanded.

The color slowly drained from The Puzzler's face. "I didn't mean to overstep-"

"But you did, didn't you?" Moving closer, Megamind glowered imperiously down at the other man. Inside, he was a little bit surprised at how successfully he was intimidating him. Minion looked a little bit surprised, too, shifting his footing anxiously. Things were going well, he decided. Then he leaned down, getting uncomfortably close, opting to take a page from Puzzler's own book on unnerving behavior. "You thought you could come into _my_ city, challenge _my_ nemesis, and for a while, I played nice with you. I let you have your fun. And how did you repay my astounding generosity?"

"I'll never do it again," Puzzler quickly promised. Funny. He didn't seem so creepy anymore. As a matter of fact, he just seemed very, very frightened. "Please don't kill me."

"You abducted _my_ damsel."

The Puzzler started struggling against his bonds. "Please," he begged. "Please, don't!"

Megamind smirked his very best, most utterly evil smirk, and activated the trap door beneath the other supervillain's chair.

* * *

When the bag came off of her head, and Roxanne blinkingly found herself in a darkened room full of blinking dials, consoles, mysterious tubes and Tesla Coils, her first thought was one of relief. Which was ridiculous, really, because she'd covered the recent story about The Puzzler herself – the mystery of why a man who had recently escaped justice would voluntarily turn himself over to the police, actually _requesting _solitary confinement in the process. So she knew it wasn't him. It couldn't have been. Still, that particular kidnapping had been an extremely unpleasant experience, so maybe it was just a little bit understandable that the first thing which flew out of her mouth when Megamind whirled into view was:

"Oh, thank goodness it's you."

There was an awkward pause.

Roxanne felt a sudden surge of embarrassment rush through her. Megamind blinked, darting a glance sideways, a little color rising to his cheeks. Minion coughed awkwardly.

"Yes. Um. Well," the supervillain said after a minute, regaining himself and throwing his shoulders back. "I'm afraid your wily reporter charms won't do you any good here, Ms. Ritchi! Your fate is sealed!"

He cackled. Minion loomed. Roxanne rolled her eyes, and tried to pretend that she hadn't just said that thought out loud.

There were worse ways to be kidnapped, she supposed.


	5. Bad to the Bone

**Author's Note:** The prompt:

"Metro Man, branching out and trying new things, attempts to be a bad boy."

* * *

The movie theatre had featured an advertisement before it began showing its film. Music Man, his feet propped impolitely onto the chair in front of him, had puzzled over it for several minutes after it had finished. Apparently, 'illegally downloading content' from the 'internet' was considered a bad thing to do. Bad in that generally harmless sort of way, if the ad was anything to go by, like cutting in line or eating more than two grapes from the produce section of a grocery store.

Given his new lease on life, Music Man had decided to try doing bad things for a while. Just to see how it suited him. He'd even gotten a collection of notes on the topic from the little guy, citing things like 'jaywalk' and 'double park' and 'steal cable'. That last one had given him he'd given him mixed feelings . The cables he'd stolen were all starting to pile up in his closet, and it didn't seem to be garnering much of a public reaction.

But this was a new misdeed to have brought to his attention. Blinking in the darkened theatre, Music Man used his supervision to double-check his list. Just as he'd thought, stealing music wasn't anywhere on it.

Ignoring the screen, which was currently flashing up a message asking viewers to please turn off their cell phones, he took the tiny white and gold mobile out of his pocket and gingerly pressed the '2' on his speed dial. The phone rang for a few minutes before it picked up.

"Ollo?"

"Hey, little buddy!" he replied, not bothering to lower his voice. The theatre's sole other occupant turned to glare at him. "Got a question for you."

"Uh huh. Is this important? Because we're kind of in the middle of lunch here."

"It'll just take a minute," he replied. "How do I 'illegally download movies and music'?"

There was a pause. When Megamind's voice came back over the other end, it was loud enough to that his super-ears rang with the force of it, and he had to hold the phone away from himself.

"WHAT?" Megamind demanded. "What are you thinking? You can't do that! It's immoral!"

Music Man raised an eyebrow. "I-"

"No, absolutely not! Don't you even care about supporting the arts? Whenever you download something for free that is like _stealing someone's soul!_ That is so evil, I don't even have words for it. Where are you getting these ideas from?"

"I-"

"No, wait, don't answer that, it's that whole sub-culture of entitlement that you're a part of, isn't it? Well listen Mr. 'I'm a Musician Now', how would YOU like it if someone just up and took your music and enjoyed it and didn't give you anything back for it? Hmm?"

"I-"

"And _don't_ say that you wouldn't mind, because you're filthy rich and you have the worst perspective on these things. I mean, honestly. You live more lavishly than I did even when I was Evil Overlord!"

"I-"

"I'm going to hang up now, because we're getting some weird looks in the restaurant and Roxanne's doing that cute thing where she tries to hide her face and I think I might be too loud. But I don't ever want to hear this kind of talk from you again, do you understand? This is the sort of thing I'd expect from that ludicrous idiot currently occupying my old prison cell, and I will not put up with it from you!"

"Alright, alright," he muttered, sinking low into his seat. "Jeez."

The connection cut off with an audible 'beep'.

Being bad, he mused, was a decidedly nuanced affair. Maybe it was just too complicated for him.


	6. Green Eyed Monster

**Author's Note**: From this prompt:

"Megamind, Metro Man - Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster"

* * *

"Do you make all of this yourself?"

Her voice startled him a little. He wasn't used to having his kidnap victims say things that weren't, you know, incoherent screams or pleas for their lives or cries for Metroman to come and save them. Blinking, he turned away from the console he was standing at, darting an uncertain glance to Minion. Ms. Ritchi was sitting in her chair, staring at the gigantic death ray he'd designed. As soon as Metrocity's precious hero turned up to rescue his latest fling, he'd get a face full of red sunlight.

It probably wouldn't do anything, but Megamind was trying to cover his bases. The guy had to have a weakness. It was just a matter of testing different theories until he found what worked, like any good scientific process.

"What did you say?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and giving his cape a menacing little swish.

Ms. Ritchi shrugged. She was... atypical of Metroman's usual lady friends. More hips than chest, with short hair and a slightly sardonic twist her lips, an implication of intelligence about her. Maybe the man's tastes were improving.

"I wanted to know if you built all of this. It seems pretty labor intensive," she replied.

From his post, Minion beamed. "Oh, it is! We've got plenty of help, though, mostly from the brain bots. Back in the day we used to hire henchpeople, but they're just too unreliable in the long term."

Ms. Ritchi's eyes darted over towards the nearest brain bot, considering. "Really? But how do you get the materials to build your robots? They look like they'd be expensive." She seemed genuinely interested. Megamind paused, uncertain of how to deal with this new tact she was taking to her situation. It didn't seem to fit with the game. She was far too calm and composed for a hostage.

"Most of it's stolen, but we patented a few inventions to help with our funding," Minion continued, bright and cheerful.

That probably wouldn't do. No. No, this was all wrong, the hostage did not make nice with the kidnappers. Mustering himself again, Megamind glowered at his friend, and whispered harshly to him from the corner of his mouth. "Minion. Code: get back to looming menacingly," he hissed.

Immediately, Minion straightened up and obeyed, hastily turning his back on their prisoner.

Ms. Ritchi sighed. "How long is this going to take?" she asked. "I have dry cleaning I was going to pick up today."

Dry cleaning? The woman had been abducted by the city's most nefarious evil mastermind, and she was worried about her _dry cleaning?_ He scowled, and, marching over to her chair, glowered down at her.

"If I were you, Ms. Ritchi, I would be more concerned for my skin than my clothes," he snapped.

She looked him square in the face, and then rolled her eyes. Not cowed in the least. "Oh, come on," she said. "This is the fourth time you've kidnapped me. I'm pretty sure we know how this is going to end. So really, how long?" She smiled, her eyes glittering with some quiet mirth, as if she'd discovered a secret of his and was keeping it just behind her tongue.

He didn't like thinking about what that secret might be.

"Minion! Power up the death ray!" he bellowed, turning back to his console, and pointedly ignoring the odd flutter that had started up in his chest.

Ten minutes later, when Metroman burst through the roof, he took three shots of red sunlight and didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Megamind was tied up and left for the police. Minion, naturally, escaped.

Ms. Ritchi was gathered up into the muscle-bound arms of her dashing savior, the tips of her hair and her skirt billowing in the open air as they flew off. She was beaming. As they left, her words drifted down to his ears, carried by the wind.

"Thank you for saving me," she said, bright and sincere.

Watching them go, Megamind felt a sudden surge of resentment flood through him. All at once, he hated Metroman with a potency he hadn't really felt for years, not since he was a child, not since he'd first realized that every human everywhere would always prefer his rival's company to his own.

For the first time in a long time, he truly resented the fact that the other man was destined to get all of the good things in life.


	7. Grey

**Author's Note:** Just a short one, from this prompt:

"Younger!Metroman finds his first grey hair."

* * *

He was really lucky that his hair grew in perfectly sculpted waves.

Really, really lucky, because so far, nothing short of his own fingers or the natural course of time had ever been able to break his hairs, or part them from his skull. Metroman sighed as he ran a hand across his scalp, scrubbing in the shampoo, feeling the tense strands around his fingers. It would probably look _horrible_ if it just grew in normally, and he had only his own nails to cut it - ragged and long and uneven, he'd bet.

Whistling slightly, he rinsed the last of his shampoo out, and fluffed his perfect coif with his fingers. He tugged a little too hard by mistake, and winced as a few strands came loose from his forehead. It didn't really hurt, but he always got annoyed with himself when he wasn't careful about his own strength. If that had been someone else's hair, he'd have yanked a whole clump free. Maybe even taken some scalp along with it. Not good.

The broken strands clung to the wet skin of his palm as he stepped out of the shower, turning off the spray. He blinked down at them, and then did a double-take.

No.

No, it couldn't be. He was way too young for _that_. Wasn't he?

Metroman discarded two ordinary, slightly wavy dark hairs, and held the third up for scrutiny underneath the bright lights of his expansive bathroom. He saw his own incredulous expression reflected back at him from the wide mirror as he stared at the single, solitary grey hair. It was... a fluke, maybe? His hair had always been perfect. As reliable as his super-strength and super-speed, as natural as lifting his feet off of the ground. Easier than smiling. He swallowed, hard, and just stared for several seconds.

It was nothing. Only one grey hair. Humans went grey all the time, didn't they? Sometimes even when they were as young as he was. Maybe he wasn't human, but he'd always aged more or less like they did. Though, he never really thought very much about it. Time had always seemed incredibly abstract to him, as though it was just another concept that he hovered slightly above and to the left of, like gravity. Or pain. Intellectually he knew it would affect him. Puberty had hit that nail home rather handily. But... still. He was _Metroman_.

Aging was one of those things that seemed like it ought to happen exclusively to other people.

Curling his hand around The Hair, Metroman found himself leaning forward, checking the other strands in the mirror. They looked fine. They looked just the way they had yesterday. But a grey hair couldn't grow in one night, could it? How long would it take to grow in, anyway? He didn't loose hairs very often.

Sucking in a resolute breath, Metroman let it go. One grey hair. People would think he was vain if they knew he was bothered about such things. And, really, he wasn't. It was just a little tiny hair. Just one insignificant, itty-bitty break in the lifelong streak of an otherwise perfect head full of them.

Opening his palm, Metroman let the strand fall to the bathroom floor, and told himself he wasn't going to think about it anymore.

A month later, he discovered that his perfectly grown, impervious-to-damage locks were also, less conveniently, impervious to Just For Men's as well.


End file.
